Hell Bound
by hullosweetpea
Summary: After Metaron kills Dean he ends up back in the one place he never imagined he'd be in: Hell. The only problem is this time he's not alone. And the Mark of Cain has a final say too.


**A/N: I got the idea for this after watching the finale for season 9 (Jesus Christ I screamed). The first thing I thought of was what could have made a Dean a demon so fast, I mean, if he had stayed in Hell with Alistair long enough he would have become one. Enter this story. Fair warning for blood and stuff. It takes place in Hell; it's going to get dark.**

 **Disclaimer: Kripke's**

Hell Bound

 _It had felt excruciating when Metatron stabbed him through his heart with the angel blade, like it was searing into his soul. It took all of his will and strength to keep himself awake. Long enough for Sam to find him, for him to plead and beg and assure, and for him to utter those five words: I am proud of us._

-o-O-o-

 _"Wakey, wakey. The show's about to start and I have been waiting for just the right moment."_

Dean awoke panicked and breathing heavily. He tried to move his arms and felt something painfully digging into them, tearing into his skin and muscle. He looked forward and saw Alistair grinning down at him, eyes like tar pits. "Hello Dean." He picked up a small blade and let it scratch down Dean's face, just breaking his skin. "I hope you enjoyed your little fun. I was against trying it at first, but I think I'm going to love the results."

"Alistair," he growled through clenched teeth. "Fucking bastard, what am I doing back here?"

He chuckled darkly and let his fingertips drag down Dean's chest making the hunter flinch. "Oh Dean, it was all a dream. You never left Hell; you were always here."

Dean looked wildly at his arm; the Mark of Cain was gone and even through the blood he could see he looked younger. "What...but..."

"I'm quite proud of my work you know. And that last part with Kevin, and Sam, and the Mark of Cain? I'm particularly proud of that. I thought I brought you to a new low when I let you think Castiel and Bobby were dead, but this? I didn't even think it was possible for humans to have such self-loathing."

"But, but I tortured you. Cas...he killed you."

"Ah, I had to let you win sometimes, didn't I? Or else you may have caught on." Alistair walked around him slowly and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "And if you wanted to know, it tickled. It took all of my self-restraint to not laugh."

"You psycho son of a bitch," screamed Dean. He pulled all his limbs, but the hooks sunk farther in his skin and Dean swore he saw blood glistened metal peek through the other side. A scream choked his raw throat.

Alistair clicked his tongue. "I think I let you indulge too long. You've forgotten. So what do you say today Dean? Do you want to pick up the blade?"

He let spit and blood collect in his mouth and spat it into Alistair's face. The demon frowned and wiped it off his face with his hand and smeared it on to Dean's pant leg. "Is that how it's going to be you brat? It's not a problem for me, not at all. In fact, it's not even going to be your problem." Alistair snapped his fingers and Dean could hear frantic limbs moving, more than likely bound down. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Alistair walked over to the other person and stroked his hair. "We found this little one trying to break you out. Luckily my men are much faster." Dean's heart sunk with realization. "But I guess you can't see him can you? I'm such an inconsiderate host, here let me fix that." He flicked his wrist and the rack Dean was suspended on rose up to a vertical, the hooks sinking farther down due to his weight, digging even deeper into him. He looked at the other man and wanted to puke.

It was Castiel.

He was strapped down in a similar fashion as Meg had when the demon possessing Christian was torturing her. He lay flat on his back, arms spread out to the side making a T, and thick leather straps stamped with Enochian warding bound him down over his naked body at his wrists, elbows, chest, waist, thighs, ankles, forehead and mouth. The angel's blue eyes darted between Alistair and Dean: utter contempt and sympathetic pleading.

Alistair leaned down next to Castiel's face and cupped his jaw with his fingers. He leaned his nose into his cheek and breathed in deeply. "Can you smell that? The innocence, the fear. It's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of an angel of The Lord." He leaned back up and let his hand trail over the strap restricting Castiel from speaking down to the buckle. "I think I want to hear this little birdie's tune." The tiny, metallic clinks of the buckle slipping away was deafening.

"Dean," Castiel moaned, voice rough and haggard. "Dean...don't...don't say yes. Don't let him delude you. I'll be fine."

Alistair snapped his fingers and the strap replace itself. "Now, now, spoilers." He walked over to Dean. "So, what's it going to be? The blade, or the little angel you regard so well?"

Dean looked over back at Castiel and saw the blue eyes pleading him, to not agree. He knew if he did he would break the first seal; he would begin a chain of events that would break his brother. Sammy. He looked up at Alistair with cold eyes. "Fuck off."

The demon chuckled and walked over to a table. "You know what I enjoy from you Dean? I never know what to expect. Who could have predicted you to sell out the man who has always saved you, saved your brother and the others you care about, he's dropped everything, rebelled, and died for you. He was quite the hero in that little homespun fantasy. And you just throw him at my mercy instead of saving him." He picked up an angel blade and tossed it lightly. "I'll have to thank you for that." He lunged forward and stabbed the blade through Castiel's side. A quick, sharp scream was muffled by the strap over his mouth. Alistair pulled it out, blood coating it, and scraped the edge against Castiel's abdomen. "You know what the best part is? He won't die."

"Cas might not, but his vessel will and without it you don't have the angel," argued Dean.

"True, so very true. But you see, even if I'm not the King of Hell, I'm certainly God of this part and as long as you're still there he'll stay here. How long are you willing to let him suffer?"

Dean looked at Castiel's eyes and saw pain in them, but he also saw a hard look of determination. He didn't want Dean to fail. "Try your best Alistair. I know Cas and he'd be more pissed if I sold out for you."

Alistair walked back over to the table and grabbed a thick, clay pitcher. "Interesting." He brought the angel blade up and cut three, ragged parallel lines from Castiel's chest down to the strap over his waist and hips. A sharp hum of pain came from Castiel, but it wasn't as heart breaking as the last one. "You know it's not just your little angel in this noggin." He poured the contents of the pitcher over the cuts, the clear liquid coming out thicker than water, only slightly sluggish: holy oil. "There's someone else in there too and I'm sure he'd love a say in this matter." He pulled the strap back again.

Castiel breathed heavily and looked at Dean frantically. "Dean, what happens next...I'm sorry. Just...try not to let him...sway you. I...I'm fine re-"

With a flick of Alistair's wrist he was cut off. "Boring. That's not the station I wanted." He snapped his fingers and Castiel's entire attitude changed. His eyes darted in every direction and grew wide in fear. He began pulling and straining against the straps, screaming. "Ah, here we are. Jimmy Novak." Alistair turned to Dean with a smile. "Not exactly the Heaven he always thought he'd go to, is it?"

Jimmy looked at Alistair and shrunk under his gaze. He glanced over at Dean and began to try and move even more. Holy oil and blood dripped down the sides of his body. "Castiel, that son of a bitch! He did this f-f-for you, all for...you. He says h-he can handle it and you-you go with it beca...because you never even th-thought about where he got-t-t the body." Jimmy groaned and hissed in pain. "It hurts, searing and-and...and burning. Do you have any idea," he took a large gulp of breath, "how much I pa-pa-prayed? And all for this? I'd say you could all go t-to Hell, but it'd be useless. Kinda like you."

"Jimmy, don't think...I...just, it doesn't have to be that way," explained Dean, the words stumbling under his tongue.

Alistair smiled as he watched the interaction. "So Dean, what about now?"

Dean looked at the pain and hate in Jimmy's eyes as he watched the man taking labored breaths. But then there was still Castiel's words. "No."

Alistair grinned. "If you say so." He produced a long match and struck it against the strap holding down one of Jimmy's arms and a small flame began to burn. He dropped the match on Jimmy's stomach and the flames licked across him following the holy oil in every line mapped across his body. Jimmy screamed as the flames curled around his body and the putrid smell of burning flesh began to become thick, hanging heavy in the air.

Dean yelled and pulled at his restraints, but they dragged deeper into his muscle, causing spikes of poker hot pain along his body. "Jimmy..." he croaked through his raw throat.

The flames devoured Jimmy's flesh, black and bubbling, leaving the man hoarse with tears tracking across his bloody face. Alistair scratched a finger nail against Jimmy's ear, but the man did nothing, only slightly flinching. "There, now is this so bad?" Jimmy moaned and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. "Oh dear I think I broke him. I'll have to bring the other one back."

Alistair snapped his fingers and Jimmy's eyes flew back open. The fire burned lower and smaller. Flames jumped around in search of any flammable patch left. "Dean...," moaned the man and he knew Castiel was back. "I'm-I'm...I'm," he gasped sharply as a flame found a pocket of oil and shot high and burned bright. "I'm fine," he said in a rush. "Don't-don't-don't...don't-," the angel screamed in anguish.

Alistair picked up the angel blade and teased the tip of the sword at the leather strap holding down one of his thighs. "Such a good solider. I bet the haloed bastards upstairs love you." He plunged the blade down through his leg pinning it to the table. Castiel let loose an angelic screech and his eyes blazed a bright blue. Alistair picked up another angel blade and teased this time at the crook of his elbow. "This is what you'll get every day Dean." He brought the blade down with tremendous force, ripping its way through muscle, bone and metal. "Until you say yes, this little angel will suffer." He picked up a new blade and faced Dean with a grin. "I could have fun with this."

 _Your brother, bless his soul is summoning me as I speak. Make a deal. Bring you back. It's exactly what I was talking about wasn't it? It's all become so... expected._

Dean weakly jangled his restraints in a defeated attempt to be free. All it earned him was a wave of new pain slicing through him. Alistair stared at him as this time he ran the edge of the blade through the blood on the table.

 _You have to believe me, when I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied, I never lied Dean. That's important. It's fundamental._

The blade scraped against the metal, the zing echoing sharply. Castiel lay still except for the slow rising and falling of his chest. Alistair brought it up to his side and he hissed as the cool metal hit his warm skin.

 _But, there is one story about Cain that I might have forgotten to tell you. Apparently he too was willing to accept death rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the Blade._

Alistair dragged it up slowly to the angel's chest. "I think it's about time we let your angel rest for today? What do you think, hm? Unless, that is, you have a different answer to my question earlier, which in that case means it won't be necessary. "

Almost as if it was in slow motion, Dean watched as Alistair raised the blade and brought it down towards Castiel's heart. "YES!"

 _He died._

Alistair looked at Dean, the blade already breaking skin and pooling blood on to Castiel's chest. "What?"

 _Except as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go._

Dean spat out blood that had welled in his mouth when he had bit his tongue to stay silent. "I'll take the blade. Just...just promise you'll stop."

 _You can understand why I never spoke of this._

Alistair grinned and with a snap of his fingers Dean was released and healed. He looked at him with hate and contentment. Alistair walked towards Dean and wrapped an arm around him. "Was that so hard? I thought not. I knew you would come around some time."

 _Why set hearts aflutter with mere speculation?_

"Just let Cas go," muttered Dean, not even looking towards the man he betrayed. He promised him he wouldn't break, but he had. He let Castiel, and himself, down.

"Who said anything about letting him go?"

 _It wasn't until you summoned me, no it wasn't truly 'til you left the cheeseburger uneaten... and I began to let myself believe, maybe miracles do come true._

Rage filled Dean. "What?"

He chuckled and picked the angel blade back up. "Who do you think was going to be the first soul you tortured? Already laid out like a feast. All you have to do is finish the job. You know my powers have been the only thing keeping him from death Dean." He handed the blade to Dean.

 _Listen to me Dean Winchester, what you're feeling right now is not death, it's life._

He looked down at the blade in his hands and then back up at Alistair. He ran forward and thrust the blade hilt deep into Alistair's chest. The demon looked shocked and fell forward, energy crackling and sparking on the descent. Dean ripped it back out and walked over to Castiel. He leaned down towards one of the straps and fumbled with the buckle to undo it. "It's alright Cas. I've got you; I'm getting you out."

"You pathetic fool."

He looked up at Castiel's face. Castiel grinned widely, the white of his teeth contrasting against the blood streaked and splattered across his face, but his eyes. Instead of the blue Dean always associated with angel they were pitch black. "Cas..."

He laughed. "Don't you see?! You're no better than Alistair. You are so much worse. A stronger man would have held on longer. A stronger man would have never caved. The righteous man. Those feathery idiots couldn't have had it any farther from the truth." His black eyes filled with mirth. "You're one of us Dean."

 _A new kind of life._

Dean looked at the demon Castiel sneer at him and pure anger boiled inside of him. A blood lust he hadn't felt since when he had the Mark consumed him and he picked up the angel blade. He felt something being burned into his skin as he stabbed the angel impostor.

 _Open your eyes Dean, see what I see, feel what I feel._

He breathed heavily as the empty, blackened corpse of Castiel looked back up at him with his blue eyes full of shock and large, black wings scorched into the metal table. He looked down and saw the Mark of Cain glowing and pulsing on his arm, the First Blade in his hand slicked with blood.

 _Let's go take a howl at that moon._

Dean opened his depthless ebony eyes.


End file.
